Life with the Rat
by Yawning Stuffios
Summary: Peter Pettigrew always thought he was doing the right thing. Dumbledore had ordered him to do so. And Dumbledore is always right, isn’t he? Well, the Potters’ death wasn’t on their plans... Or was it? Now, I have the chance to redeem myself. R&R HP notmin
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Peter Pettigrew always thought he was doing the right thing. Dumbledore had ordered him to do so. And Dumbledore is always right, isn't he? Well, the Potters' death wasn't on their plans...

My name's Peter Pettigrew. Muggle school clerk, Hufflepuff, Death Eater, spy for Albus Dumbledore, you name it. My former friends hate me; I was presumed dead and now, I am to be killed at sight. All this because of my following an order from the man I thought was perfect. Now, 31st July 1990, Wormtail will try to correct his mistakes and fool that old man's plot. If Harry Potter doesn't trust a repented war criminal, my fate will be sealed. If he does, my death will be postponed. This is Scabbers, whose destiny will be decided by a tenth year old, to which I've be done great harm.

This is Peter Pettigrew, and I'll explain you my history, from my point of view.

My childhood was a Muggle one. My mother trying to keep me from harm, home-schooled me during my first ten years. I accept it; I had an Oedipus complex. I despised my father, and loved my mother. I remember her so clearly: hazel eyes, brown hair, pale skin, sharp features, a generous bust and slender legs. She was on her thirties when she died. Or rather, when my father killed her. Her epitaph? "For a loving mother and friend. All her life, she repeated "Draco Domiens Nuncam Titilandus". In the end, she forgot her own words."

My father was a drunk, and a violent drunk to top it. His days were all the same: wakes up with a hangover at 10; beat his only child at 11; insult mom's food while eating it at 1PM; then go the rest of the day to the bar, where he'd get so much beer we didn't even know where all the money came from. Then, at around 8PM, he'd come home, beat his only child at 9 and rape his wife until 12. Then, he'd fall asleep.

Needless to say, he didn't live long after I became thirteen.

At eleven, I came to Hogwarts. I was a loner Hufflepuff, bent on learning everything he could. I had excellent marks, but I lacked friends. To occupy myself in my spare time, I learnt all the harmful magic I could get my hands onto. Ironically, I bumped on the three curses I was thinking of while doing my Charms essay: The Unforgivables.

I never thought it to be such a touchy subject, until I included it in my DADA essay. I remember my teacher paling when I handed her my work. I was very proud of it, as it explained the subject perfectly. I was alarmed when my teacher grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the classroom. I was terrified when we stood in front of the gargoyle that leaded to the Headmaster's office. I was smiling when I came out, the day after. My bum ached, and it hurt when I sat, but I'd find somebody I could trust. Or so I though, silly me.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. "How could the Savior of the World, the Defeater of Grindelwald©, sink so low? You must be lying!"

I wish the same think as you, that such a powerful wizard was above molestation, rape, murder. That the Leader of the Light lived up to his name. But he certainly wasn't above teaching an eleven year old the Unforgivables; to craft him into a weapon, to make him infiltrate a group of his own students. He even broke the boy's mind and rebuilt it! All the while using him for his personal pleasure.

And so, he took my wand, saying that he was going to remove the wards on it so I could take my vengeance on my father. He said he'd take about a year for it.

Little did I know that removing wards took only seconds for a wizard of his calibre.

So, I got a new wand at the start of my second year. During the train ride, I was to befriend Sirius Black, James Potter and Remus Lupin. I was to join them, make them rule-breakers and inspire them to become animagi, all the while making myself appear like a clueless almost-squib Muggleborn.

At the end of our third year, I managed to make them all adore and trust Dumbledore, though Sirius still doubted about his perfection. I made them start a feud against Snape and Slytherins in general. The only thing that didn't go as planned was him actually becoming best friends with the trio. Also, their pranking pastime was nowhere in the master plan. The master plan edified by the one and only Albus Dumbledore. The plan that destroyed my life.

The first morning of summer vacations, I found my wand ward-less, sitting next to my bed, as naive as I was. She didn't know the spell she was going to cast. In fact, I hesitated when I had it pointed against my father emotionless eyes. I never thought about Imperio-ing somebody to watch them harm themselves, nor to Crucio them into insanity. However, I had done all of the above, and was about to end it all. The two words fell off my mouth, almost accidentally. And my father fell next to the woman I loved. I didn't fell to my knees and cried, like all books say people do. I simply took a shower, grabbed a shovel, digged a big hole and threw both corpses in. Then, I filled the tub and laid down, trying to drown. But Dumbledore apparated in front of me, jerking me out the water. He slapped me, screamed at me and then took me non-consensually. From then on, everything went downhill.

Third year was uneventful, fourth year too. Fifth year, we finally got to transform and follow Remus to the Shrieking Shack. Sixth year, I contacted Lucius Malfoy, the Slytherin that was recruiting students for the Dark Lord's cause. I finally took the mark at the end of my last year, along with my diploma. Some years after, little Harry was born. Then, Dumbledore contacted me again.

This time, I didn't comply without a fight. Dumbledore still was the most powerful, and I left my healer training to join the Order of the Pheonix and ultimately, become the Potter's secret guardian.

But the plan didn't go as it was supposed to be. Dumbledore never came to my signal, and James and Lily were murdered. I had to fake me own death, kill eleven muggles and incarcerate my best friend. I was stuck as the rat of a stuck-up nerdy boy, then his dumb brother.

But now, I've escaped. And depending on the decision of the boy that I ruined his life, I am to die or live. I don't have many chances, but it's worth the try.

Is it?

It's Albus Dumbledore, Perfect Old Man's word against Peter Pettigrew, dirty traitor's word


	2. Chapter 2

I regret lots of things; too many things to count. Some people call me a cold-blooded assassin, killing my best friend, his wife and his son. Some others call me a mindless servant, following the Dark Lord without questioning. I agree with both, though I may blame it on my bad childhood. Even though, in the outside, not even I can see them, the psychological scars I got from the continuous rapes formed me on what I'm today.

A tool. A supposedly mindless tool. Part of a plan. A perfect plan.

Yet I'm not a perfect tool. I still have emotions: I can hate, I can love, and I can _feel. _If I couldn't do all these things, I'd be dead by now. I have a big burden on me. I will reveal the truth to Harry Potter. It will be his choice to trust me or to finish me. Whatever choice, I'm doomed. It's ironic, my fate was sealed when I got my Hogwarts' letter.

I told you my history, my past history. Now hear, hear what I have to say.

I think this, as I apparate at Surrey. I'm terrified, like the first time I was dragged to Dumbledore's office. I'm still terrified, as I walk down the street, heading towards N.4, Privet Drive.

How's it that nobody knows where the Boy-who-Lived is? I mean, I sneaked quite easily into the Department of Wizard's Registry. His file was easily accessible and he got the address without triggering any ward. Why was it that nobody adopted him?

I frowned in disgust. It was obviously another plan of Dumbledore's. Get him to be abused, get him to have no hope, then come and rescue him, just like a hero. And I understand him. After all, he'd done the same with me!

I know it's useless to knock on the door. His foster home should surely hate him, and it's around midnight. I just hope he isn't afraid of rats...

I transform into Wormtail and enter through an opened window. I move fast, checking every room on the house. Maybe they're out? But the car is in the park way...

Then, I saw it. From my little form, the door to the cupboard under the stairs seemed gigantic, but I knew that it was too little for a human being. Even less for a growing child!

The door was a little opened, and it looked like the –several, horrible muggles- locks had been picked. My rat heart skipped a beat. Was I too late? Well, it wouldn't hurt to check...

I enter the dusty cupboard, noticing that the only two things that made it look like a room were a bed and a little table. The rest of the room was full of discarded items, such as batteries, used light bulbs and broken toys. The room was entirely dark, no windows to be seen. Hanging from the "roof" was a little lamp that looked about to fall. If it ever fell, it would be on the bed, which was just under it. And if it happened, a fire was going to rise. And if the scent on the room was what he thought it was, the whole house would explode.

How could they put gas bottles in the same room with a 10 year old boy?

I look with horror at the thin, shuddering, little ten year old boy. He was curled into a tiny ball, "sporting" over-sized clothes: his only protection from the cold night.

Is killing a muggle by muggle means punishable in the magic world? I hope it isn't, because I don't want another thing over me.

I feel a sudden pain on my rat chest. A sharp, sudden pain that left me breathless. I feel my magic being sucked off by the room and then it got to me. The blood wards! Apparently, the wards Dumbleshit pat over the house worked as a protection for the muggles. It made sense: protect the abusers.

With the years of training from Dumbledore, I know what to do. I immediately empty my mind from all thoughts. The pain subdued, and my magic was back, but my transformation broke. As I was multiple times my previous weight, now, I fell from the covers and into the floor with a great thud. I had the sense to roll under the bed.

The boy over me obviously jumped. Quite literally, as a thud and a moan of pain followed. The ceiling was obviously the lowest over Harry's bed...

"FREAK! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE KNOW?"

I imagine a frightened and shivering version of young James Potter watching terrified as the door to his little room was kicked open by a raging, purple, over-weight muggle.

"N—no-thing, Un-uncl-cle Vernon!"

"YOU MOANING LITTLE FUCK! YOU THINK I CAN'T RECOGNIZE A MOAN? SO, YOU'RE TOUCHING YOURSELF UNDER OUR ROOF? WELL, I'LL GET YOU TO GIVE ME SOME!"

I hear stomping, along with a cry of pain and the ripping of clothes. Rage submerged me. I won't let the son of my best friend suffer the same as me!

I roll off the bed, swiping off the muggle from his feet. I whip my wand out of my pocket and, instinctively, stick it on his eye.

The result was immediate. He screamed, no, howled, in pain. I pushed down harder, hearing his scream break down immediately. I've reached his brain.

I know there's no time to lose. I grab the shell-shocked boy, my bloody wand and run out of the house. I still feel my magic draining away, and I wonder if I'll have enough for apparating. I keep running, until I reach the Mangolia Crescent. There, I apparate to the first place that comes to my mind.

'Spinner's End'


	3. Chapter 3

Severus is certainly not the right person for a child, much less James' boy. And today is certainly a day for shocks: I find Severus reading a Dark Arts book...

And I certainly got a bone crushing hex, right to the right wrist.

What do you expect, when you invade Severus Snape's privacy? It's the most sacred thing in the world!

I scream and drop Harry, who lands head first. Severus's sneer soon vanishes, turning into a raging glare. He spells me tied and takes the young boy on his arms, putting him on the couch. He checks his temperature, glares at me and runs to his lab. He comes back with a vial filled with green liquid, probably a flu-healing potion. He turns towards me and kicks me in the face. I cry out from pain, as I feel my left canine break.

'So, Pettigrew. You couldn't just let the death lay, didn't you? You had to come and molest their children... '

'Severus! It's not what you think...' I shriek. This certainly seems like a cheesy quote... But I'll get Crucio'd, yessir.

'Crucio!'

Yessir, I saw that coming.

Pain overwhelms me, along with fatigue... I hear a snort.

And a moan of pain? Oh shit.

Harry's awake!

...perfect time to faint...

'Whe-where am I?!'

...very bad timing...

When I finally woke up... I was in the same place I fainted. The only difference was the pool of blood coming out from my mouth. Well, Severus is certainly physically fit for a wizard... if you consider he's a potions master...

I hear a muggle song coming from the next room. I've heard it quite some times, at the Weasleys household. Though I never heard the title, the song keeps repeating 'Yesterday'.

Around me, the living room is filled to the brink with books. I snort. Severus was a bookworm at Hogwarts: that's how he bonded with Lily. Seems like he still is. But again, that's Severus.

Cold, calculating, smart, arrogant and cruel Severus.

I hear chat from the other room: the dining room, if I remember. The scent of lasagne invades my nose and leaves my salivating. I notice that my arms are free, no ropes attached. I would've sworn that I was all tied up, some minutes ago!

Nevertheless, I get up with a wince. My wrist is still broken, and my mouth hurts like hell. I know better than enraging a Death Eater, so I cast a Scourgify on the pool of blood and slither quickly to the bathroom.

I don't look as messy as I thought I would be... except for the cut under my eye, blood coming down from my scalp and my broken tooth. Yes, not bad at all...

Some moments later, I come out of the room, a glamour covering my cuts. I hesitate before opening the door leading to Harry. How will he react? More important, how's it that Severus hasn't killed him yet?

I transform into Wormtal and crawl through the a hole in the foot of the door.

My rat eyes bulge out their rat sockets at the sight before me. The sight is, in fact, atrocious. Just seeing the knife sticking out Severus' arm is enough to disgust me. But the fork stuck on Avery's heart makes me want to puke. Not to mention the sight of a woundless, bloody Harry Potter bandaging Severus inner thigh sends me over the top. To my great shame, I revert to human form and empty the contents of my stomach over Avery's corpse.

This was certainly a bad action. If Severus' ripping the knife off his arm and throwing it at my leg is any signal, the feeling of my bone snapping is certainly worst.

Oh joy. I'm bloody dead. No pun intended.

From my sitting position over the hard ceramic floor, I hear Harry sobbing and Severus... comforting him?

My eyes snap open. Is Severus Snape, cruel and ruthless Potions Master, comforting his worst enemy's son? I must have lost quite a lot of blood.

Oh noes, the black void of unconsciousness again...

Weee, I'm dying...

No! Don't bandage me! Just let me die! I try to reach for my wand, but I feel too weak. I try to swat the boy away, but my arm doesn't answer... I try whispering, telling him to let me die. I'm surprised myself at the faint whisper coming from my throat. How the heck did got so weak?

Oh yeah. The blow in the head.

'Please... Just let me die...' I see two pairs of eyes widen at my statement. Harry silently drops the bandages. Severus quickly pulls himself together and rushes to the living room. Is that a scratch on his nose? His hair doesn't look that greasy, from this angle.

By that matter, why isn't Harry shaking? I mean, it was quite a shock, even for me... He's just there, kneeling after me...

By that matter, why is Avery's jean's general crotch area bloody?

I laugh, and I choke. I can't breathe, then I can, then I can't. Sheesh, I'm going mad.

Wee! I'm bloody dead!

No pun intended.

Wha, What?

Oh no.

Little guy seems to have a healer's gene.

No, let me die! I ruined you life! Hate me! Bash my skull against the Hogwarts Express! Just, don't heal me. Please

This boy's nobler than the most Gryffindorish Gryffindor in this freaking world.

The worst is that he's actually healing me. James once said me that Potters were innate healers, but apparently the skill had jumped him.

There goes my broken tooth. As good as new.

No, I actually like that blow in the head! It makes me look like a soldier after a battle...

He gets up, the blue glow disappearing from his hand. He's still shaking, but a small grin has appeared on his face. Now, when I actually get to examine him... he doesn't look like 1st year James. He has shoulder length black hair, all messy. His features are just like Lily's: delicate and cute. But the most remarkable things are his eyes. A perfect pair of emerald stones, usually glazed by intense sadness. But right now, it seems like if Christmas has come earlier.

'Sir? Are you alright?'

'I'm... dead.'

My comment obviously surprised him, as his –very girly, in fact. I'm sure he'll get flirted at Hogwarts- face molds into a confusion. His expression is so funny that I start laughing. I laugh so much that I start shaking all over. But there's still a knife on my leg, and I cry put in pain. My cry alerted Severus, who rushes in. He looks at Harry (who seems in the brink of fainting), then at me (I'm still laughing like crazy). He sighs and draws out his wand.

"Stupefy."

Wee! Unconsciousness, you're welcome!


End file.
